


Blue

by gokkyun



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gokkyun/pseuds/gokkyun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So right, so wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> So this goes from like sappy to depressing to smutty back to sappy? Basically a goddamn mess. But a mess that was fun to write :^) 
> 
> No warnings that aren't listed apply I think. Enjoy and comments/kudos/critique etc. as always appreciated. 
> 
> (Also; the title is a hint for multiple things in this fic, ranging from the a person's mood to goddamn flowers.)

The silence that lies over Arlington National Cemetery is heavy but comforting, the night quiet save for the sounds of a harsh wind brushing through trees as well as soft but distant footsteps. They come from a man that makes his way through the innumerable graves, face stern as he halts in front of one of the many statues spread around the cemetery, dedicated to one of the fallen soldiers finding their eternal rest here. The man depicted in the monumentum is saluting, his other hand holding onto a by now outdated pulse rifle while his cloak, decorated with Overwatch's crest, is gracefully floating behind him. 

A mild frown settles on the man's face – he hates looking at these statues of John Morrison, presenting him like some hero from a child's tale. Not idling in his thoughts any longer as it has become a bad habit in the past years, he moves away and further across the dimly lit cemetery. Without having to look for his destination twice he stops yet again, this time in front of a plain-looking grave. There aren't any flowers lying on it and it's in a rough state, uncared for even though it’s the day of death of the man supposedly buried there.

The man standing in front of the white gravestone takes a deep breath, finding himself drawn to another old habit of his as he bites down on his lower lip. He kneels down now, clutching the bouquet of flowers in his one hand tighter while the other brushes over the dusty stone, fingers tracing along the engraved letters. They read Gabriel Reyes and a question that the man isn't able to answer but that he has asked himself every time he's here surfaces; what the hell is he even doing here? 

He shakes off yet another unnecessary thought as he hears a tree branch crack nearby and it causes him to get back up within a heartbeat. The sound was too slow and too close to him for his liking and he doesn't need his years of military training to come to the conclusion that someone is close. Too close. The guards aren't patrolling frequently enough around this time of the year and the all too familiar feeling of discomfort that has been haunting him since earlier today can only mean one thing. “I know you're there. So come out already, I'm too damn old for your hide 'n seek bullshit,” he calls out.

“Oh Jack, why are you always so hostile?” a rough voice accompanied by a mocking undertone asks as the figure lingering in the shadows steps out from behind a broad tree, clad from head to toe in black leather, long coat billowing behind the creature known as Reaper as he steps closer but remains at a distance. His features are as always hidden away behind that oddly shaped mask, empty eyes and taunting mouth. “Just wondering what you are doing here, visiting hours are long over.” 

“You should know by now that I don't play by the rules anymore,” the other man says and turns his gaze away and back onto the grave. “Just like you, Reaper.”

From behind the mask Reaper's eyes wander to the grave, his grave, and back to the younger man, back to Jack, back to Soldier: 76. “Did your sentimentality kick in again? Lying flowers on my grave like a damned widow.” 

“It's what you do on a person's day of death. But I don't expect you to understand.”

“I don't because it's a foolish and unnecessary gesture. And aside from that, I did not die that day, I became death itself,” Reaper declares, unmoving and unreadable, voice eerie and shallow. While Soldier: 76's eyes are averted, Reaper's gaze lingers on him. He's dressed in his usual boots and black pants but is wearing neither mask and visor nor that ridiculous jacket that makes him look like a second class comic hero. A blue hoodie covers his upper body instead and it accents his for once revealed blue eyes – and the flowers in his hands.

“They were your favorites,” 76 suddenly says from next to Reaper and he shifts his attention back to the man's aged face, deep scars and an even deeper frown visible as he's clearly figured out where Reaper's attention was for a second too long. “Forget-Me-Nots. Or at least that's what you said. But you said a lot that wasn't the truth, probably.”

Reaper doesn't bother to confirm or deny the other man's words, his broad shoulders simply shrugging. A couple of heavy steps follow and then he's close enough to reach out for 76's face. Talons brush against skin, not quite strong enough to break it but to make 76 flinch as Reaper cups the man's right cheek. “You're too damn sentimental for your own good.” 

This time it's Soldier: 76 who stays silent – but not because he wants to but rather because he is unsure of what to say. Instead he releases a heavy sigh through his nose, knowing that he's lost to his memories and his sentiment – caused by Reaper and Reaper alone, his voice still so incredibly familiar with a touch against 76's cheek so simple yet so perfect, even obscured by sharp talons and cold gloves. You make me sentimental, 76 wants to say in response but doesn't. He won't give Reaper the pleasure of knowing just how weak he makes him, how 76 will never quite be able to resist or even hate Reaper in the extent he probably should. Because even with Reaper breathing out his dead cells through inky black smoke every once in a while, even with him extending himself through sinister tendrils, even with him being something between a human and a freak of nature, Reaper – Gabriel – is still somewhat alive, he's still here and not buried in that damned grave forever. And somehow that's enough to make Soldier: 76 feel something in his chest, in his stomach, something that should be hatred but that is far from it. 

The lack of cold fabric against his cheek causes 76 to snap out of his thoughts and he finds himself alone once more. A tingling feeling is all he's left with and he gives in to the urge of pressing his free hand against his own cheek, a familiar but unwelcome craving settling in his fingertips, in his stomach, in his whole body. With a sigh he leans forward and lies the bouquet of flowers onto the otherwise lonesome grave, looking at it with involuntary pity and maybe even guilt in his eyes. 

Soldier: 76's steps are loud in his ears as he makes his way back over to the small spot in the cemetery's fence which he used earlier to enter, preferring the silence of the night to pay Gabriel Reyes' grave a visit. He knows he should be paying attention to his surroundings, concentrate on not running into guards or the police as soon as he's left the cemetery, the scar crossing his forehead visible on the bounty posters too big of an indicator for who he really is, but he isn't quite able to. 

Reaper's touch, fleeting and devoid of gentleness as it was, won't leave his mind – or rather the longing feeling manifesting in his lower half won't leave his body. That pesky feeling that he has gotten to know all too well in the past years, in those years were he didn't know Gabriel was still alive, in one way or another. And he hates that feeling, hates that he needs to satisfy it. 

His hatred started with simple showers. Showers that helped him come down from the adrenaline-driven high his self-assigned missions left him with. Hot water rinsed his skin of blood and dirt and tension and somehow it lead him to give in to the by then painfully present feeling of satisfying his body's primal needs. He pressed his scarred forehead against the cold white tiles while his hand roamed over his chest and abdomen before it wrapped around his already slightly stiff cock. But to 76 it wasn't his hand, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself. It was Gabriel's. That large warm and oh so familiar hand that joined in as Gabriel's rough lips and 76's – no, Jack's – would collide, as Gabriel pressed against Jack from behind, trapping him between the cold tiles and a warm body, Gabriel's hard cock eagerly pressing into his backside. And as hard as Soldier: 76 tried to imagine just that, there was nothing but emptiness and frustration in his lazy strokes and his moan turned into a whimpered sob. Gabriel Reyes was gone forever. Or that's what he thought back then. 

76 went a step further as his own hands provided nothing but irritation as well as the occasional breakdown anymore, unable to push down the feeling of loss that seemed to constantly surround him. Even though he knew that Gabriel was probably cursing him from the afterlife. But his body ached for something physical once more, ached so badly that Soldier: 76 laid awake at night and for once it wasn't because of his paranoia.

So for once 76 dressed like a normal person would, not like a vigilante that dispensed self-righteous justice. He made his way into one of these shabby bars and looked for a man, but not just any man. A man that had mahogany skin, that was as tall as he was or taller – because Gabriel always did insist that he was taller when he clearly wasn't. 

A couple of drinks for the sake of silencing his conscience later Soldier: 76 – or Jack, as he couldn't quite introduce himself as a hunted man – picked someone up. Someone that didn't quite look like Reyes, his eyes too bright and his three-day stubble too short. But he was tall and had a similar skin-tone and 76 thought, If I close my eyes, maybe it will be alright. 

It wasn't. 

They were at a cheap hotel soon enough and the stranger asked Jack how a pretty thing like him got all of these scars, the man's hands that didn't belong on Jack's body roaming over his bare chest. “I'm a soldier,” is 76's plain answer and he gives the muscular man a hollow and insincere smile as Jack thrusts his still clothed hips into him impatiently. The stranger groaned Jack's name in a too deep voice, a voice that wasn't Gabriel's and Jack had to force himself not to scream because of how wrong, wrong, wrong all of this felt. 

It became worse when the stranger started fucking him from the front, said he wanted to keep an eye on Jack's flushed face but Jack hid it in his hands – not because he was embarrassed like he was during his first times with Gabriel but because he can feel his eyes water. Instead of pleasure he felt blinding pain soar through his chest, felt filthy and abused and even emptier than before. 

It was over too quickly and yet not quick enough. 

Jack got dressed as fast as his sore body allowed him to and was about to leave when the stranger said something. He was too distracted by the numb feeling in his body and the dried tears on his cheeks to understand it. 

Soldier: 76 pushes the sinister memories out of his mind and finds himself back on the ground floor of his hotel in Arlington. His middle fingers rub small circles into his temples, wondering why on earth he would recall things like these instead of the fact that Gabriel Reyes is still here, somehow. 

With a soft sigh directed to his resurfacing sentimentality, 76 opens the door to his hotel room. It closes behind him with a soft sound and before he can properly wonder why the small nightstand light is burning an arm grabs him roughly and turns him around without much of an effort. He's pushed face first into the door and it kicks the breath out of him. His fighting instincts kick in but it proves of little use as his right arm is twisted and held behind his back. 

A tall and broad body crowds against him from behind, black thick smoke appearing in his field of vision and oddly enough it makes him relax. Which proves to be unfortunate, the demanding feeling in his stomach and his groin reappearing. “I've only been renting this room since two fuckin' hours, how did you –“

Soldier: 76's words are interrupted by Reaper's derogatory scoff. “Please, Jack. You took the same damn room in Arlington ever since we – you – were in Overwatch. And now you still do. Too damn sentimental, even in that regard.”

There's a momentary pause before 76 breathes out a small laugh. “Then what are you doing here?” 

“Had something to take care of earlier. You didn't think I was done with you, were you?” Reaper asks, teasing mockery in his oddly clear voice and 76 turns his head over his shoulder as far as the situation allows him to. The other man's face is hidden in the shadow of his hood but for once not behind the mask. 

“I had hoped not,” Soldier: 76 slurs out as he feels how Reaper's free hand snakes to the front of his pants, stroking him through the already too tight fabric. Reaper's gloves must be off too, the touches precise and firm. 

“My, my, Jack. Half-hard already,” Reaper's voice is a mere but clearly amused whisper against 76's neck and he answers with nothing but a soft sigh, content to feel the other man's touch that is so familiar and incomparable, even after all those years. “What would you like me to do?” 

Soldier: 76 feels how the grip on his arm tightens and he involuntarily shudders at the rough but satisfying touch. The feeling courses through his whole body by now and intensifies as Reaper's dexterous hands unbuckle his belt before they slip under 76's underwear to trace over the more and more hardening cock, cold fingertips a stark contrast to the warm member, thumb teasingly pressing against the glans. “Fuck me,” 76 finally exhales with excitement, voice sounding almost helpless. He knows Reaper wants to hear that magic word as well and 76 is too desperate to deny it. “Please, fuck me.” 

With obvious approval Reaper growls into 76's ear before he lets go off the arm he's been keeping in a tight grip until now. His ungloved fingers are swift to grab hold of Soldier: 76's face and Reaper presses their bodies even closer together as he leans in to capture the other's lips eagerly. The grip he has on 76's dick tightens and he pumps it, slow and teasing, as the kiss evolves into something messy and sloppy fast, tongues losing no time to find each other and intertwine. 

Grotesque puffs of smoke escape Reaper's nose as he breathes out heavily through it. The black clouds, small as they may be, make 76 delirious as he's forced to breath them in through his own nose, half-lidded eyes watching as they disappear in himself and in the room's twilight alike. He doesn't care though, not right now at least. All he can think about is how badly he wants to touch Reaper but he can't, trapped against the door. Instead he claws against it for purchase and his eyes flutter close, 76's world crashing down on him as those large hands around his dick apply just the right pressure, as he feels the perfect taste of the other man lingering on his tongue, Gabriel's taste. He whimpers into the kiss. 

The contact of their lips never breaks as Reaper turns 76 around, lifts him up effortlessly and with one swift motion. On impulse Soldier: 76 wraps his legs around Reaper's broad hips to steady himself as they move towards the wide bed, slow and entangled. They fall halfway onto it a couple of quickened heartbeats later and 76 is surprised that his back isn't being maltreated by something he placed there earlier, ranging from clothing to weapons, using beds as deposit rather than a place to rest. It's not like he finds peaceful nights anymore, let alone in a proper bed. 

Reaper, standing at the edge of the bed and leaning over it, parts the kiss and they open their eyes back up simultaneously, clouded gazes meeting and lingering as they catch their breath. It's slow and hesitant as 76 reaches out and pulls the black hood of Reaper's long cloak back to reveal his features. There are dark purple circles around his eyes while his mahogany skin shows those indescribable and obscene complexions of milky and rotten skin equally. But there are also those familiar scars across his cheeks, nose and forehead. His thick beard is full of short gray hairs while the sides of his head are completely shaved; the top is crowded with careless, thick curls that aren't meant to be there for sure as Reaper – Gabriel – had always hated them and how 76 – Jack – found them cute. 

With an inaudible swallow, Soldier: 76's hands travel towards the other's now revealed face, soft smoke escaping the edges of Reaper's mouth as fingertips trace all over it. 76's fingers learn anew how the other's face feels every time they are like this due to the ever-changing nature of Reaper's decaying and regenerating cells. But it's still the same nose, the same lips, the same eyes in that old and withered face. Eyes that look at him like they always did, with seemingly endless affection and undeniable lust, even though they might not do it on purpose. 

And Reaper's fingers return the motion, to some extent at least. A single hand presses against 76's cheeks, the same hand against the same spot like earlier that night, like in another life. Reaper's eyes take in 76's features, aged but painfully familiar. Soft wrinkles form on his forehead as he lifts those white and thin eyebrows with an unsaid question, skin so pale that it would look unhealthy if it wasn't for the soft pink flush on his high cheekbones. And then there are those eyes, of course. Those eyes that Reaper thought were too blue and too soft to be real when he was another man and gazed into them for the first time but he was wrong and for once in his life glad about it. Those eyes that make him weak and sentimental now. Those eyes that cause a soft pull, almost like an ache in his chest as they give him their unshared attention, like they always have, like they always will. He hates them. He hates how his former self laid awake at night, trying to describe John Morrison's magnificent eyes. He hates how he came to love Forget-Me-Nots for the sole reason of their color, their color that came close to those damned eyes. 

It's far too late now to give in to that feeling suddenly resurfacing in his chest, Reaper knows. His humanity is mostly gone and so should whatever he once felt for the man in front of him, when he was still Gabriel Reyes. Unfortunately it's not all that simple and Reaper feels how gravity pulls him towards Soldier: 76 again and again and every time they are like this he gets drawn closer and closer and it's irresistible. Anger washes over Reaper's face. His heart, that he didn't think would still work properly, drops into his stomach as those blue eyes seem to gaze right past his façade and the sudden realization that he still, somehow, needs and loves this disease of man in every single way.

Reaper can't stand looking at 76's eyes for one more second, not with those pitiful thoughts running loose in his mind. A swift motion to flip the other man on his stomach followed by his surprised yelp is all it takes to solve the problem – for now – and Reaper wants to finish this quicker than he would like to. His hands make fast work of pulling Soldier: 76's already loosened pants and underwear down and Reaper's eyes immediately travel to the bandage around 76's left thigh, a light red spot pressing through the white material. The urge to trace over it overcomes Reaper, as well as to ask 76 how this happened, when it happened and most important who the fuck did it but he holds his misplaced worries back. 

Instead he swiftly coats both his middle and index finger with his own saliva before roughly easing the latter against and into 76's entrance – the other man flinches against the sudden penetration but moans softly nevertheless. Soldier: 76's skin stretches around Reaper's fingers, accompanied by a slight burning feeling but it tells 76 that he's about to get what he wants more than anything as of right now. His eyes try to focus onto something else to take his mind off the searing mixture of pain and pleasure that cuts through him. He fixates on two of Reaper's shotguns and his pair of spiky gloves that lay on the bed in front of him and on top of Soldier: 76's jacket and a couple of helix rocket cartridges. It's a mess, 76 thinks with mild amusement and he's unsure if his thoughts are about the bed or about Reaper's and his relationship – or whatever you might call it. 76 relinquishes the thought as the single finger twists deep inside of him and presses against his walls, a long-drawn whimper his reply. 

Said finger moves out for the sole purpose of a second one joining in, stretching 76 enough to feel full, moaning softly as his untouched cock twitches against the fabric of his hoodie insistently. Those fingers inside of him press deeper and deeper until they reach his prostate to rub and curl against it, leaving 76 whining for more, his feet that are resting on the floor as he's bend over the bed barely able to hold anymore. 

Soldier: 76 isn't sure if it's his voice and his shaking body or Reaper's own impatience that makes the other man pull out, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that 76 hears a belt, then two, then three drop to the ground, followed by the sound of a zipper being pulled down and Reaper's deep voice, groaning as he pulls out his cock. Holding his breath, 76 widens his stance, spreading his legs further. He feels the tip of Reaper's cock circle teasingly around his hole and he breathes out, “Do it already.” 

And then Reaper presses forward, both of them moaning loudly and in unison. 76's fingers curl into the bed's white blanket under him, his whole body trembling at the sensation and how badly he wants Reaper to fuck him, to ruin him thoroughly. It gets worse when those large hands grasp his hips and 76 is unable to hold himself back as he pushes his ass back into Reaper, shoving himself further onto the other's dick, squirming around it. 

Those heavy movements coming from 76 aren't helping Reaper at all, especially not as they cause 76's hoodie to roll up and reveal the other man's scarred back. That irritating feeling in Reaper's chest returns as he hates how these scars become more and more without him knowing how – when he used to know all of their stories. 

With a growl, Reaper leans over 76's back, that pale, scar-riddled back, and starts pounding into the warm and welcoming body underneath him. Every savage snap of his hips shoves 76 harder against the bed that gives jarring sounds of protest. The pace that Reaper settles is fast and unforgiving, groans and inky black smoke escaping his mouth alike as he breathes heavily, fingers digging into 76's shaking hips as the other man is barely holding it together anymore. 

“Touch me,” 76 breathes out in between a particularly throaty moan, his voice sounding like he's on the brink. “Please, please, please,” he repeats like a chant, like he's unable to say anything else, anything that's coherent anymore. He could touch himself, give his cock the attention it wants but he wants Reaper's big hand around it. And 76 throws his head back and clenches his teeth and he's nothing short of a mess as his prayers are answered, Reaper's hand wrapping around his flushed and sensitive length, pumping it in time with those harsh thrusts. 

And suddenly everything seems to align, the pleasure he feels from his back and from his front, those moans that are undeniably Gabriel's as well as Gabriel's hand around his cock, squeezing it with perfect pressure between those with fervor filled strokes. 76 arches his back and smothers his cry of pleasure into the blanket as he comes with a shaky but final thrust of his hips into Reaper's hand. He whimpers a silent Gabriel into the blanket's fabric and feels how tears pool in the corner of his eyes like that one horrible time – but this time it's not because of emptiness and shame but because he feels so full and satisfied, even without seeing Reaper's – Gabriel's – face.

Reaper isn't sure why he still reacts to that name, isn't sure why the soft and single Gabriel that escapes 76's lips sends a shiver down his spine and makes his heart race, but it does. He groans as he keeps moving in and out of the tightening hole of the other man, burying his face in 76's neck – a sweet scent with a rough edge in it travels into his nose and it reminds him of better days, simpler days and he revels in it, in being weak and sentimental, if only for a second. He muffles his final moan by digging his teeth into Soldier: 76's pale skin as he hits his orgasm with an almost feral thrust.

Silence fills the room except for both men's heavy and exhausted panting but it's nothing unusual. They never speak after it or even of it, keep it holed up between their lips, never to come out. At least that's what they try to. 

Reaper pulls out of 76 with a harsh sound that is too loud for 76's taste and he notices just how tired and spend he feels as Reaper's hands let go off him. His legs give in, forcing him to kneel on the floor while his flushed face is still buried deep in the blanket. The urge to close his eyes overcomes him and he knows it's a bad idea, a very bad idea, but he gives in, just for a second, he tells himself, before the comfortable numbness coursing through his body consumes him. 

To his mild surprise 76 isn't greeted with pain in his back on the next day – rather the opposite. He woke up in his bed that morning, body covered by a blanket and dressed in nothing but his underwear. The thought that he might have woken up and that his sleep-drunken self undressed and crawled into the bed in a delirious state crosses his mind. But that wouldn't explain that his bed was cleared off all the stuff scattered over it. 76 guesses it was Reaper's work. Hopes it was. 

The thought makes him chuckle, even if just for the slightest bit, as he makes his way across Arlington National Cemetery once more. This time he's here during the day, a black baseball cap hopefully hiding the distinct scar across his forehead. He stops in front of the statue that depicts the man he used to be once more but this time he gazes at what is next to, on the ground. A grave – his supposed grave.

He finds the same flowers there as every year, his eyes focusing on the ones he cares for solely. The white carnations from his parents, that they laid down on his grandfather's grave as well. 

But for the first time in all those years another bouquet of flowers catches his attention. A bouquet that was never there before, that seems small and insignificant and out of place. But 76 knows it isn't. That bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots. 

With an absent mind 76 presses his fingertips against a certain spot on his neck. The spot where he can still feel the lingering press of Reaper's teeth from last night. 

And somewhere in the back of his old and overly sentimental mind he remembers his mother's words about Forget-Me-Nots.

They symbolize true and undying love. A bond that lasts even through time.


End file.
